On a Pale Horse
by Lona W. Hall
Summary: Beyond the Pale contest entry. Edward only wants to escape the boredom of his existence. Will psychiatric patient Bella be the distraction he needs? M for Dark lemons, violence, language and other disturbing themes - beware!


**Beyond the Pale Contest**

**Title: On a Pale Horse**

**Pen Name: ContentedTwiCow**

**Characters: Edward and Bella**

**Disclaimer: Twilight characters belong to Stephanie Meyer; title borrowed from the book of the same name by Piers Anthony.**

**Image that Inspired You: 11**

**A/N: This is an entry for the Beyond the Pale contest. Please do not go any further unless you are comfortable, and enjoy, very dark and disturbed themes. This is nothing like my other stories. If you would like specifics before reading, send me a message. My thanks to stmurr and branchirps for pre-reading and SaritaDreaming for beta assistance. All mistakes are mine alone.**

_When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, "Come and see!" I looked and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth._

Revelation6:7-8

It was really quite amusing when she thought of it, this situation she found herself in. Out of everyone in the home, it was her that he singled out for his...ministrations. And why was she the lucky one? Because she appeared to be the most beaten...malleable...controllable. Out of all the residents in the psychiatric care facility, she was the most fucked up. It was a major accomplishment for a twenty-six year old. Of course, there were the catatonics, but really, once you'd seen one, you'd seen them all; not really what he was looking for when he came for her. She looked up at him now, his gross, sweaty face laboring over her body as he pounded into her. As always, she said nothing, did nothing, moved nothing—just stared at him with hooded eyes and smirked lips. His intrusive attention was the price she paid to be allowed her tools: the razor she cut with and the bowl used to collect her blood. Sometimes, he took advantage and went beyond the boundaries of their agreement—those times he did other things to her. There wasn't much she could do about it given she was locked in the facility he was in charge of...nothing much she could do about it, for now anyway.

He looked down at her and felt a tinge of worry when he saw the smirk on her face widen as she watched him.

Finally, she was alone again. Her body was cleaned of his sweat and spunk, leaving her free to enjoy her reward. She knew she had to make this session count as he had already warned her that the tools would be taken away later in the night. Annual physicals were coming up in the next month, and it wouldn't do for the state doctor to see fresh cuts on her flesh. It would make Dr. Newton appear negligent...incompetent. Of course, his visits would still continue, he had explained. He would have to abstain from fucking her pussy for fear that vaginal tears would show in the pelvic exam, but he could use her in other ways, and perhaps he would grant himself one last visit before the night's end.

Bella sat with her back against the wall in her room and stretched her legs in front of her; a small space between her thighs allowed room for the bowl. Grabbing the razor in her right hand, she brought the blade to the soft skin on her left forearm, right near her elbow. Closing her eyes in anticipation, she sliced into the skin, the stinging burn shooting through her arm like a shot of adrenaline to the heart. Next, she opened her eyes, watching the red, sticky river creep from the cut, down her arm, and then into the bowl. She turned her arm this way and that to make interesting rivulets of blood down the skin; it always reminded her of lava trails. Occasionally, she would need to cut deeper when the flow started to slow. Once it stopped, she gently laved at the cuts with her tongue, enjoying the salty, copper taste.

While her blood had dripped from her arm and filled the vessel, everything else in her mind had faded away. There was only her, her blood, and the delicious pain in her arm. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else she had ever tried—and she had tried a lot—freed her as much as these sessions with her tools. It made anything he did to her tolerable, as long as she knew that she could have this.

He came back later after lights-out to collect the bowl and razor. Since she was in the privacy of her own room, the other perk that came from being his _special__girl_, she had forgone her usual long sleeve shirt and donned a light tank top.

Lounging on her bed with her book, she watched him come into the room. The cuts on her arm glinted in the moonlight, the dried blood that remained a decadent reminder she couldn't bring herself to wash away. Happy with the disturbing image she presented to her visitor, she stared at him for a moment, wishing once again that he wasn't as repugnant as a recently fed snake.

She guessed his age at around forty five. A sedentary lifestyle had left him with a sizable spare tire around his middle and jowls that hung from his face. By the end of the evening, he had a fair amount of stubble on his bilious cheeks and the remnants of past meals crusted the corners of his lips. His eyes were porcine, hidden in the folds of his bulbous face. She imagined that all the showers in the world wouldn't prevent the unpleasant odor that was seemingly continually excreted from his dirty pores. Regardless, she was pragmatic enough to appreciate that it was his very disgusting nature that left him desperate enough to trade sexual favors for the things she needed.

Unwilling to meet her gaze, his eyes locked onto the fresh ladder of slices marring her soft flesh. He mumbled something about, "last time" and then grabbed her ankles to slide her down the bed, leaving her legs dangling off the end and her ass right on the edge. As usual, he didn't bother with bringing her to readiness, instead, forcing himself inside so that it burned instead of slid. She didn't care—it felt like when she cut her arms and helped take her away from the moment. Not bothering with her usual stare and smirk, she closed her eyes and prepared to wait it out.

The rocking motion of the bed was putting her to sleep when she felt his hand on her arm, right on the cuts. He rubbed the skin there, opening the newest wounds, causing fresh blood to well out. Her eyes flew open in surprise as he had never done anything of the sort before. The sting from the newly opened cuts, combined with the pounding he was giving her, actually caused an endorphin response, and she closed her eyes again to better enjoy the flow through her body.

He was shocked to see that she was showing signs of arousal and doubled his speed and intensity to bring her back to pain instead of pleasure. He was too late, and an orgasm broke over her like a waterfall, taking her down, down, down in a way she had never felt before. Laughter came up from her core in a bubble and burst from her mouth, causing him to push himself away from her and knock her legs to the side. He awkwardly pulled his pants back up over his flat ass and left the room without a word, after grabbing her bowl and razor. For several minutes, she lay there propped up on her elbows, focused on the door he had run through, laughing softly to herself.

In the days that followed their unusual most recent coupling, he actually tried to avoid her. Probably had something to do with the shit-eating grin that was on her face when he saw her, combined with eyes she kept cold and dead. The dichotomy was enough to make him never want to touch her again. But as the days went by, he talked himself back into using his toy, who lived in the single room at the end of the hall. She was just that—a toy—and she had no power over him. Nothing she could do would hurt him as long as he held her hostage by the need to cut.

Twilight: the time of the day when the residents were gathered in the common rooms after the evening meal. Bella had been instructed to wait for him in her room instead, and he made his way there now, determined to release himself into her and regain the dominance he needed.

Once in the room, he used his hands to pull her off the bed and onto her knees on the floor. Pushing his thumb into the corner of her mouth, he signaled her to open and then sprayed a liquid inside that retarded her gag reflex. She could feel the back of her throat numb a bit as the spray started to work. It was the one consideration he granted her; her gag reflex was much too acute to allow for deep throating without help.

Without any further communication, he unzipped his pants and removed his putrid penis, sliding it into her still open mouth. Placing his hands on the sides of her face, he slowly started to fuck her there, picking up speed as the need took him. Thanks to the spray, his dick moved into her throat easily, allowing her to ignore what he was doing. Not feeling up to fucking with his head tonight, she closed her eyes and emptied her mind. She was very good at this trick, anyone able to read thoughts wouldn't even know she was there.

He got off quickly this way, usually deep enough into her that she didn't have to taste much of his foul sperm. When he was done, he withdrew and gave her the usual light slap to her face with his limp dick before tucking it back into his pants and leaving the room.

The day of her annual physical, word on the floor had been flush with news of a new doctor, young and hot. The girls capable of taking an interest in such things avidly described his blond hair and deep blue eyes. He was kind, they said, and gentle with the girls. No funny business during the crotch part was the highest recommendation they could give.

Bella prepared for her appointment with more care than she had provided to herself in quite some time. Instead of its usual tangle, her hair lay flat down her back like a milk chocolate fountain. She used some stolen mascara to highlight her brown eyes and make them look less—empty. Shedding her inmate persona like an old snake skin, she straightened her back and worked on a smile that was a bit less Cheshire than usual. Crazy Bella was going back under cover; it was time to let Isabella out for some air.

While she had been getting ready, in the process of remembering all the tricks she used to hide her true nature, she couldn't help but reflect a bit on how she'd gotten to this point in her life. Introspection was not something Bella indulged in very often, as she no longer had much of an interest in the hows and whys of what she was. Something about shifting back into her—_Isabella __state_—brought back flashes of what life used to be.

Every single fucking day had been a constant struggle to look normal, act normal, _be __normal._She knew she wasn't like the rest of the kids; they knew it, too, and either avoided her or hazed her unmercifully. (She remembered the hazers very well; she had a list.) As much as she tried, though, she couldn't figure out exactly what was different about her. At what point did her thoughts become more deviant, more Machiavellian, _more __evil_ than anyone else's? How was it that a popular girl could, in front of witnesses, take Isabella and shove her head in a shit filled toilet and it be Isabella that was still the crazy one? It was true, though; it was all true. She knew it, and they knew it. And finally, three years ago, after so many years of trying to hide it, she'd accepted it.

Eventually, she would get bored with playing Crazy Girl and talk her way out of the institution. For now, though, while she came to terms with exactly what she was and what she was capable of, it suited her to wait things out here, playing with the doctor and planning her retribution against those who had sought to punish evil unrealized.

The nurse that came to escort her to the doctor did a double take when presented with Isabella. The patient was obviously up to something, but she'd let the doctors figure it out. Keeping a tight hold on the girl's arm, the nurse escorted her to the room being used for examinations.

At the door to the exam room, she saw Dr. Newton chatting with the visiting doctor. Her nemesis turned at the sound of the nurse's squeaky shoes, and if she hadn't been trying to appear so stable, she would have laughed herself silly at seeing his reaction to her appearance. His jaw dropped to his chest and his little, piggy eyes opened as wide as his face fat would allow. It was all she could have hoped for.

The new doctor seemed a bit surprised at Dr. Newton's reaction but simply turned to introduce himself to his latest patient.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. I'll be handling your exam today."

"Good afternoon, Dr. Cullen. I'm Dr. Isabella Swan; I'll be playing the part of the psychiatric patient," she said, giving him a wink and smile.

Dr. Cullen chuckled, "Doctor, eh? And what are you a doctor of?" It was so unusual to see a mature sense of humor in one of these patients.

"Philosophy, actually; a graduate of Brown University, 2007. Not terribly useful, I know, but it was what called to me at the time." Concentrating, she spoke her words exactly as a normal would, clearly and with no twitching. It helped to label the rest of the world as _normals_, never letting herself forget that she was _other._

Turning to Dr. Newton, she took a moment to enjoy the look of utter shock on his face. The words she spoke to Dr. Cullen were the first she had spoken since entering the doors of the asylum three years ago. Their "agreement" had been handled solely with words from him and gestures from her. He had never heard her voice. To hear it now, to hear it clean and crisp without a touch of madness, chilled his body to the core. This was not the spastic girl he was used to dealing with. This was a woman in complete control of herself—unpredictable and dangerous.

Of course, Dr. Cullen was aware of none of this yet, not having had the time to peruse her file before the appointment. He simply thought she was continuing on with her little joke. In a daze, Dr. Newton turned to Dr. Cullen and informed him that she actually wasn't kidding; she did obtain a doctorate in philosophy prior to...well, best not to talk about it in front of her.

With new eyes, Dr. Cullen took in the young woman before him. No trace of anxiety marred her features. Her body was tall and straight with her hands loosely by her side. None of the rictus that typically afflicted the severely mentally ill was present.

"Well, then, Dr. Swan, shall we?" He gestured for her to enter the room before him, while bidding Dr. Newton a good afternoon.

"You can call me Isabella, Dr. Cullen; I only trotted out the Doctor so you'd see we had a bit of common ground." A cheerful smile accompanied her words, further perplexing Dr. Cullen, who had been giving exams to the disturbed for the past three days.

"Isabella, I'm going to take a moment to look at your chart. Please bear with me."

Carlisle opened her file and started to give it a thorough reading. To the patient, he appeared to be only scanning the pages; actually, he read every word and took a moment to consider the contents before addressing her again.

As told by Dr. Newton, she had indeed received her doctorate. No note in her file as to what her thesis had been. Several weeks after she graduated, she was found in a local park lounging on a swing without a stitch of clothing on. Blood, later determined to be that of an animal, covered her hands and face. Carlisle couldn't help but give her a quick glance of surprise here; the similarity between his nature and her crime more than a bit disturbing despite centuries of resigning himself to the lesser evil of hunting animals instead of man.

When police had tried to bring her in, she had fought like a wild cat, forcing them to mace and restrain her. A taser was also used. In her jail cell, she had repeatedly flung herself at the wall, seemingly trying to injure herself. Finally, they had to drug her and bind her to the cot, preventing any further damage. She said nothing, only screamed, hummed, or murmured nonsensical ramblings. According to the file in his hands, the words she spoke to him out in the hall were the first she had given in three years.

After her arrest, a subsequent visit to her home revealed almost pristine living quarters; there was absolutely nothing personal in any of the rooms. It was strictly bare bones. Given the starkness of the apartment, it was that much more startling when they looked into the recycling bin under the kitchen counter and found a cat, which had obviously been tortured to death. The cat was presumed to be the source of the blood which had coated Isabella.

Doctors assumed it was her fast-tracked education that led to her break down. Considering she finished her doctorate around five to seven years earlier than the average, she clearly had been working herself very hard, even given the high intelligence scores she consistently scored when tested, as she very often was. Apparently, Isabella had been a bit of a pet to the Psychology department at Brown. They had wooed her when she entered the school at sixteen years of age and used her extensively for their research into genius origination. How they missed it, Carlisle didn't know, but they clearly bled her dry by constantly poking and prodding her for this and that study. Amazingly, they never once suspected any mental illness.

"Well, Isabella, I have to ask, what is it that made you decide to speak today?" Carlisle knew he was supposed to do a basic physical exam and leave the mental issues to the staff doctors of the facility. Still, he felt entitled to the reason behind her sudden loquaciousness.

"I just felt like shaking things up a bit," Isabella replied.

"Why me, though?" he said.

"Word got around of the attractive doctor doing the exams. Figured I had a better shot at a quick shag if I looked a bit more normal." She gave a quick laugh, implying she was only joking.

Carlisle chuckled quietly to himself. She did certainly have a way with words. He would have to look up her thesis to see what her mind had been capable of before her breakdown. It would be interesting to see if there were any portents to her break with reality.

Five minutes into the exam and Bella was ready to put Isabella back in her cage. She wasn't ready yet to mingle with the normals; the effort of trying to be one of the sheep was too exhausting. Still, her experiment was a success, and she felt pleased with herself. Isabella had managed to both discomfort Dr. Newton and have a conversation with a stranger. This was progress. Bella hummed quietly to herself for the rest of the exam, ignoring the doctor for the rest of the appointment, including the surprised look he gave when Bella made her appearance. Isabella was tucked away for now.

Carlisle headed home after his long day of doing physicals for the state psychiatric patients. While he had perfect recall of each and every one, it was only Dr. Isabella Swan that really stuck out in his head. The way she had clammed right back up and spent the rest of the exam humming had unnerved him in a way that was quite a novelty for him, considering his three-hundred plus years on the planet. He had been able to pin point the exact moment she gave up the pretense. Muscles held taught, relaxed. Eyes, previously open wide and direct, became snake like and shifty. Her heart beat slowed. Even the smell of her blood changed, becoming somewhat sharper; oddly enough, it reminded him of an expensive whiskey he had been given once by a fellow doctor. Unable to imbibe, he had sniffed it out of curiosity and was surprised at how good it smelled. Typically, human foods and beverages were off-putting to his designed-for-blood palate.

Schizophrenic sociopath was his best guess, maybe multiple personality as well, unable to know for sure without much more time with her. Whatever she was, she was where she belonged, and he had noted as such in her file, in case corroboration was ever needed.

Esme was there to greet Carlisle when he entered their home. While no drink or offer of food was necessary, the hungry kiss and tight embrace were a more than adequate substitute for the typical greeting of a wife to her husband after a long day apart. They talked quietly about their days; she told him about a restoration she was thinking of handling in Seattle, and he, in turn, described the various patient interactions he had that seemed worth noting. He saved the telling of Bella for later as he wanted to spend more time considering the visit before asking Esme her opinion of his patient. He valued Esme's thoughts in all things; even if she was not medically trained, she still had a sharp vampire mind along with the most compassionate nature he had ever come across.

Later on, after spending some time chatting with the rest of the family, he and Esme settled into their room, enjoying the warmth of the fire on their cold, hard skin.

"Esme, I must tell you about a patient from today. I can honestly say she was one of the strangest humans I have come across. One moment, as lucid as either you or I—a Doctor of Philosophy, no less—the next, it was as if I was back in the same room as Mary Ann Cotton."

He went on to describe the visit, unconcerned with confidentiality as the trust in his mate was complete.

"I don't know, Carlisle. Did something happen to her do you think? Any signs of abuse?" Esme asked, always ready to give the benefit of the doubt.

"Only self-inflicted. Cuts running up and down her arms, classic "cutter" placement and depth. Of course, since she hasn't spoken and no family has come forth to provide information on her, her past is actually a complete mystery. I think the only reason they knew about the doctorate was from finding her diploma in her home after the arrest. It had been in the recycle bin with about a week's worth of junk mail and a disemboweled cat."

"Oh, my goodness! She killed her cat? I mean, not that we have any right to judge anyone..." Esme trailed off, a little unsure of why she was horrified at the killing of a cat when she, herself, had finished off a mountain lion just that morning.

"No, Esme, your instinct was right. To kill a pet in cold blood is much different than hunting for food. In children, its one of the three signs of sociopathic tendencies, along with late bed wetting and fire starting."

They discussed Bella a little bit longer; the more Carlisle described his observations to his wife, the more he was convinced she should remain locked away.

Edward sat quietly in his room, listening to his "parents" talk about a patient of Carlisle's. He wasn't sure what it was, but he felt compelled to meet this person who clearly had set Carlisle on edge. The cutting detail intrigued him. Of course, he'd heard of it before, but it was different to think of this girl—this girl who was different from the rest in so many other ways—freeing her blood from her body.

Knowing himself well, he didn't bother trying to resist seeking her out. Edward had been suffering from the ennui of his extended existence for much too long now. This was exacerbated by living in a house with three perfectly matched couples: the eternal seventh wheel. Fucking the various females who flitted in and out of his life had become more tedious than he ever thought possible. Never a connection formed to a single one, just a brief moment of crashing limbs and furniture and leave takings. Thinking of the endless chasm of time before him, he often felt himself go a bit mad as if sentenced like Prometheus, to being bound to a boulder by inescapable chains while having his liver eviscerated by a bird of prey. Of course, it was his sister who foretold the future, not him, and nothing would ever consider Edward to be prey. Still, the image fit the feeling of desperation and torture that he could never relieve himself of. Maybe this girl could provide him with sufficient distraction to bring something new into his unchanging world.

Leaping gracefully from his bedroom window, he ran through the woods that conveniently bordered his town and the one the asylum was located in. In a flash, he was at the gates, then up and over and approaching the main building. Not sure how he was going to find her, he could only hope that thoughts of someone in the area would be focused on the girl. He was thankful, for once, of his ability to read minds. Deliberately opening to all the voices proved fruitless—too much insanity concentrated into a small space. He had to try to let them all fade to the back of his head like white noise and hope that if someone did think of her, he would notice and then be able to lock on to the location. What came next would be anyone's guess.

Bella knew that tonight would be a long one. Now that the threat of the annual exam was over, Dr. Newton would want to make up for lost time. At least when it was over, she'd have a nice session with her tools to look forward to.

He entered her room shortly after lock down, displaying that faux calm look of the severely pissed off attempting to stay in control. He stood at the foot of her bed, waiting, but she only stared back...at her tools in his ugly, fat, hairy hands. Obviously, he expected her to speak to him after hearing the words she voiced to Dr. Cullen. Realizing she had no intention of talking, he visibly became very angry; his face turned deep red as his eyes narrowed into slits. She knew he wouldn't back down and talk to her first; it would be silence as usual between them.

Finished with waiting for a dialogue that was not going to happen, he maneuvered her pale, unprotesting body so that she was on her hands and knees. Then, per his usual, he shoved himself inside, hoping to make her cry out. No sound left her lips as he drove into her with all the force he could bear upon the slim girl he rutted into like an animal.

Bored already with the doctor's pathetic attempts at dominance, Bella let her gaze wander around the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of something out her window. Focusing, she nearly yelped when she realized there was a pair of eyes looking right back at her. After making sure her reactions were under control, she looked harder and was able to make out the profile of a man. He was somehow outside her window on the third floor, watching her get fucked by the pathetic doctor. Briefly, her attention was drawn back to the man behind her when he finally, with more of a meow than a roar, came inside of her. Immediately she was grabbed and turned around so that she faced the doctor. His flaccid, cum covered dick was shoved into her face with orders to make him hard again. By twisting her neck a bit, she was able to keep the eyes in her window in view and she didn't let them go while tonguing and sucking on the flesh in her mouth, gradually feeling it turn hard again, though not much bigger.

Again, he moved her onto all fours. This time though, he took a bottle of lube from wherever he had stashed it and proceeded to cover two of his fingers with the gooey mess before shoving them in her ass. She couldn't help the flinch that accompanied this onslaught as his fingers were removed and replaced by the dick she had worked into readiness. Still, she held onto those eyes in her window, focusing on them so hard they were all she could see. The eyes stayed with her as the invader inside her finally finished and left the room.

Now that she was alone, she could position herself to see out of the window better; the face was still a bit blurry since it was dark outside and light in her room. All she could see was tousled hair and a square jaw; he seemed young, around her age. And, apparently, he was somehow able to cling to the sides of buildings since she knew there were no ledges outside of her room.

Bella knew that since he was looking in, she would be as easy to see as if it was daytime. The doctor hadn't bothered with removing her clothes all the way, so she did that now, holding the stranger's gaze the entire time. She didn't clean herself of the other's excretions, wanting this new man to see her at her most debased. She imagined that he could see the spunk leaking out of her as she sat cross legged on the floor. The light from the lamp in the corner gleamed off of the small metal barbells that pierced each of her nipples. She tugged on one now, hard enough to feel the bite into her puckered flesh. Then, releasing her nipple, she positioned her bowl and picked up the blade, ready to make the first cut. She saw his eyes shift to the razor in her hand and she could have sworn she saw the blurred image swallow as if in anticipation.

Savoring the moment, she drew the blade across her skin, parting the flesh deeper than usual in her need to feel the pain and burn. The blood immediately welled up and started to flow down her arm into the bowl. She had to look down a moment to make sure she was catching the liquid; by the time her eyes returned back to the window, he was gone. Disappointment crushed her, almost ruining the ritual.

Then he was there, at her side, so fast she never even saw the door open or close. She had a brief moment to register that he had eyes as black as tar before he dipped his head to her arm and started licking the blood that had flowed, making his way slowly up to the cut itself and then his mouth latched on around her arm, drawing her blood into his body with soft pulls. One of his hands tugged on the same nipple she had just played with moments before while the other one was exploring the soft wet folds of her pussy, a finger disappearing into her and reaching a spot that made her want to writhe and scream. His hands were frigidly cold and felt amazing on her overheated body. As he drank her blood, he brought her to an orgasm more intense than any she had felt before.

Whatever it was that Edward had expected from his visit, it wasn't this. Intending only to satisfy his curiosity, he was now drinking human blood for the first time in seventy years. Each drop that slid down his throat was like a knife stab at the familial bonds tying him to his peaceful coven. The taste of her overcame any regret he might have felt at taking actions bound to disappoint those closest to him. It was like nothing he had ever experienced; he was sure the madness infecting her mind was responsible for the extreme pungency of her blood.

As Edward felt this new addiction take hold of every dead cell in his body, he could only hope for the control to keep her alive—so he could keep coming back for more.

Realizing that he was on the brink of taking too much, he halted his gentle sucking and removed his lips from her arm. Using his tongue, he brought forth some venom to seal her wound. Once he was sure she could stand, he gently coaxed her to her feet, keeping his hands on her waist in case it looked like she would fall. Her head hung down, eyes to the floor, and he worried that she would slump into a pile at his feet if he let her go.

As he was about to lay her down on the bed, her head rose and eyes blazing with want met his. Abandoning all efforts to be gentle, he backed her toward the wall at the same time lifting her up so her legs could wrap around his waist. Quickly freeing his cock, he pushed into her and immediately lost himself in the heat surrounding a part of his body that had only known ice. Allowing some venom to seep from him into her, all traces of the previous man were eradicated. Once the passage was pure, he thrust in and out...long and slow at first, then harder and faster as her cries for more spurred him on. He felt the tightening of her walls around his cock and was then free to have his own release inside of this warm haven he had found.

Edward had been with some of the most beautiful female vampires on the planet, and yet none of the women came close to the feeling of being inside this small, damaged human girl. It was as if every imperfection she had heightened each individual sensation he was able to feel. Of course, her blood that now flowed through his vampiric digestive system only added to the euphoria of the experience.

Bella felt as if she'd been graced with a special gift after forcing herself to endure the doctor for so long. The feel of the ice cold muscle inside of her was sublime, like she could feel this man's essence killing what had been left behind by the doctor. She came apart again, pulsing around his hardness, screaming against a hand he had placed over her mouth to muffle the sound. Then even more incredible, streams of arctic heat shooting inside of her, making her feel cleansed and whole all at the same time.

She was so spent, she hardly noticed as he withdrew from her and then carried her to the bed. With amazing strength he managed to gracefully sit himself on the bed with his back against the wall, placing her on his legs and resting her back against his chest. His hands were doing some maneuvering between them and then she felt coldness going up her ass before the man's cock followed—the pleasure being brought to her now making a complete mockery of the previous occupant of the space. The stretching and filling felt more like being completed than cored. His arms were around her now—one hand toying with a nipple while the other feathered light touches over her clit and slit until she completely come apart against him. Another orgasm, this one overtaking her whole body, caused her to tremble and scream from head to toe.

Removing himself from her for a second time that night, he tilted her head back and took her mouth in a deep, tongue twisting kiss. Allowing one razor sharp tooth to nick her tongue, he sucked drops of blood from her mouth. His hands caressed her breasts and played with the jewelry in her nipples. For reasons unknown, the little pieces fascinated him; maybe it was the capacity for pain they represented, allowing him to feed from her without guilt...provided he left her alive. He could smell that she was getting aroused once again; the delicious musk filled his nostrils and caused his cock to respond in kind. Ignoring himself for the moment, he started moving his fingers once again in and around her pussy to bring one last release, his goal of destroying all the filth left behind by the doctor complete—the stench of the disease rampant in the doctor's blood now removed from her body.

By now, after all the orgasms and pleasure he had wrung from her, she felt barely on the edge of consciousness. As if she dreamed it, she heard him whisper, "Good bye" and then the door shut quietly behind him. Before his voice—the only words she had heard from him—completely faded from her mind, she was asleep.

_Running, she was running so fast it appeared as if the trees were only blurs of browns and greens. Oddly enough, she was wearing a light chiffon dress with no shoes while zipping through the forest. Behind her, a man—the man—in an equally strange outfit of dress pants, shirt, and vest, struggled to catch up, but was falling behind. He kept shouting at her, something about control, finding another way. She ignored him, intent on wreaking a level of destruction she never could have imagined before. Eventually, he fell behind, and she continued on alone, smiling._

From the window, Edward watched her sleep. She looked very young and at peace, nothing like the tormented girl he had spent the moonless night with. It was only then that he realized not a single thought had passed from her to him their entire time together. Even now, it was as if her room was empty. Focusing on Bella more intently, he saw from the movements on her face that she had entered REM sleep. If she had been anyone else, he'd be able to watch her dreams as if he was having them himself. There was only silence from the girl, the girl locked away from the rest of the world, the girl he should have probably stayed further away from than any other.

Watching longer, hoping to feel a tingle or at least see a flash from her mind, an intense feeling of foreboding crept along his nervous system until every instinct he had was screaming at him to end her, end her now. He ignored all that his body tried to tell him, unable to bring violence onto the small form that had pleasured him so. Still, there was no denying the sick feeling threatening to corrode his long, dead heart at the evil smile turning up her sleep slackened mouth.

**A/N Mary Ann Cotton 1832 - 1873: Serial killer executed in England. Killed husbands, lovers and children to collect insurance money.**

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